If Only You Knew
by Chucklez-Lives-On
Summary: Newt has been in the Maze six months. His arrival comes along with confusion and depression that simmers inside of him, day after day. One day, his emotions boil over and his life is changed forever. Based on something specific Newt told Thomas in the Death Cure, set pre-Maze Runner. *Death Cure spoilers* *Complete*
1. Chapter 1

**This is a fic based on my take on the surprising, sad thing Newt tells Thomas before he's shot in _The Death Cure. _I know this has been done before, but I wrote it, and I don't see any point in not posting it, so here we are.**

** If you're looking for Newt/Alby, you're not really going to find it here. There might be slight Nalby undertones, but that is not the main focus. This is going to be a three-part fic, depending on how it goes. The POVs will be alternated between Newt and Alby. **

**Warning: The plot of this entire thing is basically centered around self-harm/suicide.**

* * *

_"You wanna know why I have this limp, Tommy? Did I ever tell you? No, I don't think I did."_

* * *

*****Newt*****

Newt been here six months- six months of silent suffering. Everyone else got on okay- they laughed, they made friends. Of course, they were all slightly bothered by the fact they had been put in a giant Maze, but it wasn't like they spent their days wallowing in the misery of this fact or complaining about it.

Newt didn't complain- and he tried not to let misery show. But after long days of running, day after day of lost hope, it was harder and harder to hide how depressed he was becoming about the whole situation.

And he _was_ depressed. He was depressed and confused- and very little confusion had gone away after the time after his arrival. Of course, being a Runner let him in on more information than many- but they didn't get that much more information because they weren't finding that much.

The bloody Maze rotated its patterns, repeated itself, and nobody could understand why. There was strange writing on the Maze walls, and nobody could understand that, as well. It seemed like the Glade was a dome or something, and... well, nobody understood that either. As far as Newt was concerned, nobody understood anything in this place, and they were about as close to getting answers as Newt was to enjoying himself in the Glade. Which was pretty stretched.

The first Glader had been there for eleven months now. So there had ultimately been eleven months of _nothing_.

They had leaders, they had jobs. They had a place to sleep and plenty to eat. All in all, the Glade was a safe place, except for the bloody Grievers that came out in the Maze- usually at night, though, so that was okay, unless any of the Runners got stuck in the Maze overnight, and that had happened. And of course, there was the risk of running into a Griever in the Maze during daylight- it had happened before.

To Newt, the Glade was a prison. They did the same thing, day after day. They couldn't figure out a way to escape. Even though to most, they were used to it. They had accepted their fate and the Glade was their home. They didn't complain or mope- they did their job, some were even very cheerful.

Newt _couldn't_ accept that this was now his home, though. Even after six months of nothing and no real reason to not be accepting it. He didn't have any memories of his life before the Glade, but he knew that he had once had some type of life that was not in the Glade. He didn't know what that life was- he didn't know if his life had been good or bad- or if he should be happy to be in the Glade or not. But he knew that there had been one.

Sure, Newt had friends. Alby, the second-in-command under Nick, the leader of the Glade, was his best friend. Newt loved him. He cared about Alby more than anyone else. Newt felt like Alby was one of the few he could really trust in the Glade. Of course, there were others- a close second was Minho- the Keeper of Newt's profession, the Runners. People like Alby and Minho helped ease Newt's pain for getting out of there, but it wasn't quite enough.

In conclusion, the Glade was slowly driving Newt insane.

And one day, he just couldn't take it anymore. The pain of it all built up and one day, it just fizzed inside of him and exploded.

Had Newt not been a Runner, he probably would not have had this problem. Maybe depressed to some extent, but nothing like what he had right now. If he wasn't a Runner, he would be oblivious to some degree about how hopeless the situation was. However, he _was_ a Runner. And that made things worse.

So the day that the pain exploded, Newt got up at the standard time Runners got up at, the time of 5:30 to get breakfast and get ready for the day ahead. Then he went towards the Doors for Minho to give him his Section assignment.

Newt waited with the three other boys besides Minho who had Runner positions. Minho arrived and gave him his Section assignment- Section Three today.

"I haven't run Section Four yet," said one of the other Runners- the newest one, elected only a week ago. "It should be interesting to see what I find."

The other Runners only laughed and rolled their eyes- they knew he wasn't going to find anything special. Newt knew it only too well- he'd run all the Sections more than several times. He just shook his head and said nothing as Minho led the way through the Maze doors, and they all jogged together until they split up to go their seperate ways.

To some extent, Newt enjoyed running. He was alone and had plenty of time to think things over. That was also probably why he had the depression- he had time to be depressed because he was by himself for plenty hours in the day.

He spent the first half of his day jogging the course of the Maze- it was a pattern he had seen before- nothing special, as expected.

Newt paused for lunch under a wall that said "World In Catastrophe Killzone Experiment", slightly covered by overgrown ivy. He slid down the opposite wall onto the Maze floor, opened his pack, and pulled out his lunch. Leftover turkey from Frypan's dinner last night, two apples- one for a later snack, and his water bottle. He took a bite of his sandwich and a long, slow sip of his water, looking at the words on the wall, trying hopelessly once more to rack his brain for any idea on what those words might mean.

Once more, nothing.

_Why are we doing this?_ he thought. _We're _stuck_ in this place. I've been running this bloody Maze for six months- Minho's been running it for eight! There've been people here for eleven months and _nothing_! Shucking _nothing_!_

And that's when Newt snapped. The anger and depression and hopelessness Newt felt numbly, day after day, bubbled up and exploded.

He dropped his water bottle, not caring that some of the precious liquid spilled out even though that was all he had for the rest of the day, and stared straight at the wall. "What do you want from us?" he shouted at the wall. "Why are we being kept bloody prisoner in this shucking place?" he knew that there was nobody in the wall and he knew it was just words, but he didn't care. He was angry. And sad. Which, at the moment, was just more fuel to the flame.

And then he broke down into choking sobs. He brought his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around his knees, and buried his head in his knees and cried for a good five minutes.

Then he did something he could've never imagined doing. "I can't do this," he muttered, almost dazedly, to himself. "I can't spend the rest of my life in this bloody place." he got up and stumbled over to the opposite wall. He then began tugging on the ivy and pulling himself up slowly, finding cracks and tightly knotted ivy as footholds. He climbed halfway up and looked down to the ground. He was about 20 or 25 feet up and it was one hell of a drop.

He clung to the ivy, looking down. His water bottle was leaking still. His sandwich lay half-eaten on top of his pack.

"I can't do this," he muttered to himself (as if there was anyone else he could be talking to). "I'm done. I'm done. There's nothing to live for in this bloody place... I'm done."

And then he jumped.

And in his mind's eye, he saw Alby. His best friend. They had hit it off almost as soon as Newt arrived in the Glade. Alby understood Newt like nobody else could.

And then Newt, in midair, about five feet from the ground, realized that he did indeed have something to live for in the Glade.

_Thud_.

Newt moaned as he hit the ground with such velocity that he could almost feel his body shattering. Then he heard a snapping sound, just before he blacked out and was sure he had died, like his original intention had been. Just to get himself mentally out of the bloody place.

_Ssssshhhcccckkk_.

* * *

*****Alby*****

"Hey Alby, did Newt have to turn around today for any reason?" Minho jogged up to Alby. "Runners are supposed to report to the Map Room when the day's done, like you know, but Newt's not in there. Everyone else is, just not him."

"I don't think Newt came back early." Alby felt a knot of worry forming in his stomach for his friend. If a Runner was missing, that usually wasn't a good thing. "You sure he's not there?"

"The Map Room is a small place, Alby. There's a grand shucking total of five Runners- I can count. Three of 'em are in the Map Room right now. And I'm here- the fourth, asking about the fifth."

Alby hollered over to Nick, who was talking to Zart, the Keeper of the Track-Hoes. "Nick! Did Newt come back early today?" he really hoped his friend had and he just hadn't seen him.

Nick jogged over to them. "Newt's not back?"

"Oh, shuck." Minho groaned.

"So that's a 'no'?" Alby felt the knot growing and tightening.

"_Yes_, it's a '_no_'. I didn't see him at all today." Nick sighed.

"_Shuck_, shuck, shuck, shuck..." Alby muttered.

"Minho, what Section did he have today?" Nick asked, as calmly as he could. Alby was amazed, because he was pretty calm. Nick was a good leader. If he was in that position, he'd be screaming at Minho to gather up the rest of the Runners and go looking around the Maze, even though the Doors were to close in maybe an hour or so, for Newt.

"Three." Minho groaned. "What did he do?"

"Hear any screams?" Nick asked. "Perhaps a stray Griever was out?"

Alby couldn't believe how slow this conversation was. And that there was a chance his best friend had been Stung and quite possibly dead.

"No screams." Minho shook his head. "Nobody reported anything unusual." he gave a pointed look to Alby. "And they are supposed to report unusual happenings."

Alby groaned. "Well, what are we waiting for? We've gotta go look for him!"

"Alby, there's an hour before the Doors close. Newt knows the stakes. If he's lost, there are little odds of you finding him and if he's been Stung, well, who knows how long it's been- he could be good as dead anyways. I'm not going to recommend we go find him now. Odds are good that if we do, the Doors are shut on whoever goes looking and they're all dead. I'm not risking two or three more lives to save one. I know that sounds awful to you, but tough decisions have to be made and this is what I think is best." Nick said.

"Then I'll go looking," Alby said determinedly. "Section Three, right?"

"You shucking crazy lunatic...!" Minho exclaimed.

"_Right_?" Alby glared at the Keeper.

Minho sighed, and nodded slowly.

"Alby, you're not going into the Maze." Nick said slowly.

"Yes, I am. I'm not letting Newt die when there's a chance he's alive." Alby said stubbornly.

Nick looked from him to Minho to the Doors and back again. "All right," he sighed. "But to be honest with you, I'm not sure if you're heroic or just plain stupid."

"I'll take either." Alby ran off from the conversation and through the Doors.

Alby found the Maze to be a creepy place in general, and it was never a very bright place- the towering walls blocked out a lot of the light that came in- but right now, with the ever-fading light, the Maze was creepier than ever.

It didn't help that his closest friend may very well be lying dead somewhere in here, too.

Alby sprinted along, looking around frantically for Newt. "Newt! Newt!" he yelled as loud as he possibly could.

Nothing.

He ran on, calling out his friend's name from time to time. Each time, nothing.

After about a half hour of that nothing, he came upon a wall that said "World In Catastrophe Killzone Experiment", half-covered in ivy. He looked to the other side and saw a pack with a half-eaten sandwich on top of it, and next to it, an empty water bottle with a small puddle underneath it.

Just across from the pack, he saw him.

"Oh, _shuck_..." Alby gasped.

Bloody, beaten, shredded, broken. Any of the words were fit to describe the state Alby found Newt. He was lying in a small pool of his own blood and his leg was sticking out at an awkward angle. His eyes were closed, and it looked like he wasn't breathing.

His Newt. His best friend.

_Oh, please don't be dead..._


	2. Chapter 2

_"...I tried to kill myself in the Maze. Climbed halfway up one of those bloody walls and jumped right off. Alby found me and dragged me back to the Glade right before the doors closed."_

* * *

*****Alby*****

Alby had about a half hour to get Newt back to the Glade before the Doors closed. All in all, Newt was considerably light, even through the muscle that he had (he was also a very lean guy, there was little fat on him), but it wasn't going to be easy, because he was still heavy enough, because there _was _muscle, and muscle weighs a fair bit. Plus, he had to look out for Newt's leg and all the other cuts and bruises. He was afraid one wrong movement was ultimately going to kill his friend. Alby was figuring he was going to end up treating him like a glass doll.

Alby got down on his knees and leaned over his friend's chest. His heart was still beating, however, it was a very slow, erratic pace. He leaned back, and tried to quickly think of a way to get him home without damaging him much more. Carefully, he slid an arm under Newt's knees and neck and picked him up bridal-style and started moving as quickly as he possibly could so that Newt wasn't going to get knocked around.

"Please don't be dead..." Alby whispered to Newt, even though he knew very well that he wasn't going to be heard.

* * *

*****Newt*****

Newt woke up to the sound of footsteps. He was looking into somebody's shirt. It was a familiar shirt. At least, he thought it was familiar.

"Alby?" he mumbled, his voice cracking and raspy. His throat felt like it was on fire.

"Oh my God, I'm hallucinating." the voice of whoever's shirt it was said.

"A-Alby?"

"N-Newt?" it was Alby.

"Y-yeah." Newt closed his eyes. He felt sick, exhausted, and hurt like shuck just about everywhere. He wanted to just pass out again. Or even better, die there and be done. _No, Newt, you don't want to die..._ protested a weak voice in his head.

"Hang in there, buddy. You're gonna be okay, I promise. Just hold on."

"I-I'm sorry, Alby. I'm sorry I killed myself." Newt's head felt like it was going to explode. His leg also felt like it was going to fall off. He also had various throbbing bruises and stinging cuts.

"Y-you- you did _what_?" Alby cried.

Newt moaned. "It hurts."

"Well, I'm sure it hurts, shank, you fell off the Maze wall. At least, that's what I'm guessing."

Newt felt something wet drop onto his arm. "Alby?"

"Yes?"

"Is- is it raining?" he asked stupidly.

"N-no."

"Oh." Newt couldn't help it. He felt very weak and he couldn't keep himself conscious for much longer. He blacked out again.

* * *

*****Alby*****

Alby ran as fast as he could without making any sudden moves that would cause him to drop Newt or move him in a way that would ultimately kill him. And he was sure there were plenty of those moves that could be done.

He tried to blink the tears from his eyes, but they just kept coming and falling onto the unconscious boy in his arms. "Hold on, Newt." he kept mumbling. "Clint'll patch you up and it'll be okay..."

Based on the state of Newt, he was having a hard time believing himself.

Just as the low, deep rumble of the Doors closing began, Alby rounded the corner and was right near the exit. He had to pick up the pace or they would be stuck in there the night and Newt _definitely_ couldn't make it much longer without treatment. And Alby knew he wasn't going to be able to fight Grievers. The first unlucky shank to get stuck in the Maze overnight had died, and Alby had seen the creatures. They were not something he wanted to mess with, especially when all he had to defend himself were his bare hands.

"It's Alby!" shouted Minho. "Hurry!"

"Come on, Alby!" yelled Nick. "The Doors are about to close!"

Alby picked up the pace as much as he could- speeding up was better than getting trapped between the Doors and then having both of them crushed to death, even if it rattled Newt around a little bit.

The Doors slammed shut with a loud, echoing _boom_ as Alby barreled through them. He then tripped over his own feet when he attempted to slow down. The boys surrounding the Maze entrance caught him and steadied him, making sure he remained on his feet.

"Shuck, what _happened_?" exclaimed Nick. "Clint!" he called urgently to the Med-jack.

Clint ran up to them and said, "Shuck."

"Yeah, I got that." Alby panted. "Just- just help him!"

"There's limited things I can do for him," Clint said slowly. "But of course I'm going to try everything. Come on." he led the way over to the Homestead and Alby followed him, still holding the unconscious Newt.

As carefully as he could, Alby set Newt on one of the beds, like Clint instructed, and then the Med-jack grabbed his supplies, opened a book, and began reading it.

"What are you _doing_?" Alby demanded. "He's _dying_ right in front of your eyes and you're _reading_? What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Alby, I'm not trained enough for this. If I started working on him right now, it would be like handing Newt over to the Sloppers and telling them to patch him up."

"Three months you've been here, Clint- what _do_ you know how to do?"

"I know how to clean cuts and bruises, of course, but Newt's-"

"If your primary choice is sitting on your butt and reading, I think patching up the more minor problems is a shucking fabulous second option. I'll read the book to you and then you'll know what to do."

Clint looked at him and sighed. "Good that."

So Alby read the book to Clint, which was an instructional booklet on dealing with broken bones and other severe injuries when no proper doctors were around.

Newt still looked awful when Clint had finished cleaning and dressing the cuts. The bandages clung to his skin, a few of them already reddening from the blood that was still coming from them. The still-white ones made his skin seem even paler than it already was from the blood loss.

"Alby," Nick appeared at the doorway about twenty minutes later. "We need to talk."

"But Newt-"

"Alby, I've got to set Newt's leg back into place- you don't want to be here for that- based on what you read to me, it's nasty business. Nick, can I have a couple Baggers to help me?"

"I could do whatever needs to be done as well as any Bagger could," Alby insisted stubbornly. "I read the instructions, why don't you just let me-"

"Alby, let's go." Nick's tone told him he shouldn't be arguing. "Clint's got this situation as under control as it's going to get right now."

"Obviously, he _doesn't_. His first idea was to read a shucking _instructional booklet _on how to do what he needed to do."

"Clint's got a good ability to learn quickly, Alby. Besides, you're not a Med-jack..." Nick was quickly losing his patience. "Look, just come, okay?"

Alby wanted to protest some more, but that wouldn't get him anywhere except for maybe the Slammer. He slunk out of the building after Nick, and the next thing he knew, he was in the Council Hall with Nick, Minho, and the three other Runners.

"We need to figure out what happened, and we may as well get started now. Nobody heard anything strange in the Maze today? No screams or weird moans or anything?" Nick asked.

"I didn't hear anything." Minho said.

"Me, neither." the newest Runner, Phillip, said.

The other two Runners shook their heads.

"Alby, where'd you find Newt?" asked Minho.

"Maybe halfway through his route. By one of the walls that had the 'World in Catastrophe Killzone Experiment' thing. His water bottle had been tossed to the side and all the water had leaked out. His sandwich was on top of of his pack and it just had a bite out of it."

"Was Newt still conscious when you found him?" Nick asked.

"No." Alby bit his lip. "He was knocked out and lying... lying in his blood."

"Was he conscious at any time?" Nick asked.

"There was a small period of time when he was a-awake, yeah."

"Any conversation?"

"Yeah."

"I need you to repeat the exact conversation. What'd he say?" Minho asked.

"Well, uh, Newt said my name and then I thought I was hallucinating and I said so. Then he said my name again and I said his to see if he would respond and I wasn't just going crazy. He said 'yes' and I told him to hang on, and he told me he was sorry for killing himself. He wasn't dead, obviously, but I think he had a pretty good idea of how much pain he was in..." Alby trailed off.

"Can you keep going?" Nick pressed.

"I said 'you did what?' and he just replied that 'it hurt', and then I told him that I was sure he was hurt- he had fallen off the Maze wall. Then I started... I started..." he trailed off again.

"You started what?" Nick asked.

Alby looked down at his feet. "Crying."

"And how did Newt respond to that? Did he know you were doing that?"

"He asked me if it was raining."

"Hm." Nick raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"I told him 'no', he said 'oh', and then he passed out again. That's it." Alby said weakly.

"So you think he jumped off the wall?"

"Well, I'm not sure what else he could've done. There was no evidence of a Griever and he's way too beaten up to have just tripped or to have just stabbed himself with one of his knives or something like that."

"So you think it's true, what he said about trying to kill himself?" Minho seemed astonished.

Alby nodded.

"Are you sure he wasn't just struggling through the pain to say something and wound up throwing out something out of desperation? How aware was he in your conversation?"

"I don't think he was too aware, but he wasn't lying. There was meaning in his voice, and I don't think you could ever get Newt to a point of deliriousness where he would be lying about killing himself." Alby said forcefully. "That's not how he behaves."

Nick frowned. "I don't think Newt's going to be a Runner after this."

"I've seen him. I don't think his leg's gonna heal properly, no matter what Clint does. I'm going to be amazed if he's even capable of doing Slopper work." Minho said gravely.

"You are _not _to tell that to him if he comes to," Nick told Minho sternly. When Minho shook his head frantically, Nick sighed and rubbed his forehead. "But I definitely get where you're coming from. I have similar thoughts."

Alby hated to admit it, but he agreed with what Minho was saying, as well. Newt would be lucky if he made it out of this mess alive.

* * *

*****Newt*****

The next few days were hell for Newt- at least, the points he was awake. And he did wake up occasionally.

When he woke up, he felt like he was on fire. He was feverish, dehydrated, his head hurt like crazy, and the pain from all of his wounds made him scream. If he woke up, he usually passed out within a minute and Clint couldn't do much for him with the meager training he was working with.

Just because he was waking up didn't mean he was going to live. If the pain didn't subside, he'd never wake up fully.

He didn't know how many times he woke up- he usually forgot about the times because he wasn't awake for very long and everything was pretty much in a haze of pain.

However, about a week after Newt's little accident, he woke up to find himself to feel restrained and sleepy. He didn't hurt. At all. But he felt as though he had been drugged. Which he probably had been.

Clint was quick to notice he was awake. "Newt!" he exclaimed. Then he lowered his voice. "How are you feeling?"

Newt tried to speak, but he struggled with forming the words. "N-num-b."

"I had to sedate you pretty heavily this past week. For the first two days, you were passed out entirely. On the third you woke up screaming in pain but you were unconscious again before I could get to you. You did that until day five, and then I figured I ought to get something inside you to numb you."

"Th-that's... nice." Newt could feel himself fading away again. He had stuff he wanted to say, but it wasn't coming to his lips fast enough. "W-was I going... to... d-die?"

"Probably." Clint shrugged. "You were pretty beaten up- I mean, you still are."

"Oh." Newt wanted to say so much more, but he couldn't. He faded off into unconsciousness again.


	3. Chapter 3

_"...I hated the place, Tommy. I hated every second of every day. And it was all... your... **fault**_!"

-Newt to Thomas, the Death Cure, page 249

* * *

*****Alby*****

Newt was never awake when Alby visited. Nick tried to prevent Alby from visiting him very much, because he needed Alby to focus on his tasks in the Glade, and when Alby went to visit Newt, he moped for a while because the hopelessness of the situation made him miserable and did not get his tasks done.

Clint had told him that for the first few days that Newt was awake, all he did was scream in pain and pass out again. Alby heard these screams (most of the Glade did- Newt was rather loud), and he always broke off from what he was doing, despite the protests of those around him, and sprinted to the Homestead to find that Newt was once more dead to the world. The next few days following that, Clint had given Newt medication so that the pain was numb. Newt would fall asleep pretty quickly again because the drugs had a heavy pull on him.

On day five, around 2:30 in the afternoon, Clint jogged up to Alby and Nick. "I have... uh, supposedly... good news," the Med-jack announced, a little awkwardly.

"What?" Alby asked eagerly and hopefully.

"Newt's coming to, I think. I just had my first proper conversation with him. He's passed out again, but the fact he was able to speak through the drugs gives me hope that he's getting stronger."

"Why didn't you tell me he'd come to?" as soon as the words had tumbled out of his mouth, Alby wasn't quite sure why he had just asked that. According to Clint, it had "just" happened.

"You're not an old married couple, Alby. I know you guys are close, but it's not up to Clint to alert you _every shucking time_ the boy does so much as _breathes_," Nick said. "You've got a job to do, and you're getting too easily distracted. We're all worried and you have a right to be distracted, but only to some degree- and you're past that degree. You've hardly gotten anything done in the past week and that's not okay."

Alby sighed. "But..." he didn't know how to protest. "Never mind."

"Good that." Nick put a hand on his shoulder. "Look, if he could talk with Clint through all the meds he's been given, that's a good thing. He'll be okay."

Alby knew that was a lie. He knew the fall was going to have changed Newt, probably both physically and mentally. He was _not_ going to be completely okay, at least. Maybe one day half-normal or something, but he knew that his friend wasn't going to go completely back to normal.

* * *

*****Newt*****

About three days after his heavily medicated conversation with Clint, Newt woke up entirely, with a dull throb in his head and leg.

He struggled to sit up and observed himself. There were half-healed scabs on his arms and stomach. He also felt like had several bandages in various areas of his body. He was naked except for his underwear. He felt like his leg was in either a very heavy bandage or a cast of some sort- he couldn't see it, though, since blankets were covering up most his body and most of his conclusions were based on the way things felt.

"Clint?" he called out weakly. "A-Alby? Anyone?"

Clint appeared about ten seconds later. "Newt!" Clint said eagerly.

"Oh, don't use raised voices." Newt's head throbbed.

"Well, you've got the same personality, so we're one for one right now."

"You're too optimistic."

"Would you prefer being told pessimistic things?"

"Yeah, right now, I would."

"You're sarcastic. Sarcasm's good. You're sarcastic sometimes..."

"How long was I out?" Newt changed the subject.

"Well, you were completely out for two days, and then the third, you came to and passed out in pain and did that until day four. Then you woke up in drugged hazes and on day five, you had somewhat of a conversation with me. And did that up until yesterday. Now here you are, having a full one."

Newt struggled to remember whatever Clint was talking about. "...I don't remember the 'drugged hazes'."

"Of course you don't. Those suckers are pretty powerful."

"Okay."

Clint looked at him and took a deep breath. "I suppose I've gotta be slightly pessimistic now. Do you remember Alby going into the Maze and rescuing you?"

"Vaguely..." Newt was having a strange feeling of déjà vu about that event. It was like he had only watched the event, instead of experiencing it firsthand. It was a bizarre feeling and he didn't like it very much.

"Alby told Nick that you'd had a conversation with him. Do you remember that?"

"I think I might've had a conversation, but I can't remember what was said."

"You told Alby you were sorry for killing yourself."

"Well, I obviously didn't kill myself, unless you're dead too."

"No, you did not, but you were really roughed up when he brought you in."

"I can bloody see that. I looked pretty bruised right now."

"Newt, I know this is an awkward question, but you've gotta answer me truthfully. What you said to Alby- you were implying attempted suicide, no? By climbing up the Maze wall and jumping off?"

Newt didn't want to talk about it. He felt like he had just been punched in the throat- couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. He felt frozen. He felt attacked that he had been asked that. He couldn't quite understand why, because Alby was perfectly rational for telling Nick that, but he felt that way. So he forced himself to shake his head.

"Then what happened? If there's another danger in the Maze, we'd need to know. It obviously wasn't a Griever- you weren't Stung, you didn't go through the Changing and you didn't have that weird injection mark..."

"...I-I can't talk to you about it."

"Then who will you? If you're planning self-harm, somebody needs to be told. Like a therapist or somethin'. Should I get Alby?"

"I'm... I'm not telling Alby either, if he's just going to be ordered to tell you and Nick and everyone else everything. I'll keep my bloody emotions cooped up inside, thank you very much."

"That's not good. You oughta tell somebody."

"Whoever I tell will just tell the rest of the shucking Glade."

"Fine. I won't tell anyone else what's going on- except for maybe Nick, who I might actually _have_ to tell. What's going on?"

"Get Alby."

Clint rolled his eyes. "And you promise you'll tell him?"

"As long as he doesn't tell anyone else."

"He's may have to tell Nick most of it- or at least me and Nick the basics if you can't bring yourself around to do it yourself. We need to at least know that much."

"Fine. I climbed up- I climbed up the wall and- I jumped. I bloody jumped, okay? The motives is for me to tell Alby and he can't tell anyone those."

"Good that." Clint seemed satisfied enough. "Lemme go find Alby." he stood up and walked away.

Newt leaned back into the bed and slowly removed the sheets off his body and looked at his leg for the first time.

Not much of it could be seen. It was covered by bandages and presumably the best cast Clint could make with what was given to him.

_Oh_, shuck, _I don't think I'm ever going to be able to walk again,_ was Newt's initial thought. The cast frightened him. He didn't know how casts were actually supposed to be made, but he knew that Clint had not had to deal with something like this before and was afraid that he possibly did it wrong (both fixing his leg and then putting it in a place to heal) and wouldn't be able to walk because it was going to heal incorrectly. Or if he did put his leg back as best he could and put the cast on correctly and it was simply going to be unfixable.

Newt knew the fear was irrational and he would most likely be able to walk again, but he was still scared. He didn't think he had broken a bone before- he had some vague, disconnected memories of certain things- falling off a bike and scraping his knee in darkness, which he figured blanked out wherever he had scraped his knee, eating pasta in a shadowy room surrounded by shadowy people which he could only guess was a dining room with his family, things like that. He would think breaking a bone would have a memory like that, yet there was not one.

A couple minutes later, Clint came back in with Alby, who had a strange mix of fright and relief on his face.

"Hey there, Alby." Newt sighed.

"You're awake." Alby said, looking immensely relieved.

"Yup."

"Well, I leave you to do as you promised, Newt. Any complications, just call." Clint shut the door.

"So..." Alby said. "Uh, what did you promise Clint?"

"To make you my bloody _therapist_." Newt rolled his eyes.

"What- what does that mean?"

"I've... I've gotta tell you why I did what I did."

"Well, I'm not going to deny I'm interested in knowing about that..." Alby sat down on the edge of the bed and looked down at Newt, concerned.

Newt didn't know how to start and he didn't really want to start. He felt strangely panicked. So he stared at Alby for about two minutes. Alby returned the stare patiently.

"I don't know how to start." Newt said quietly.

"Start wherever." Alby shrugged. "And whenever. I'll wait. Or I'll leave if you need more time."

"Clint would just send you right back in if you left. He'd think I wouldn't be keeping my promise." Newt sighed. He thought for another minute, and then he took a deep breath. "I despise the Glade," he started. "I... I despise the Maze." he looked at Alby, awaiting his reaction.

Alby blinked rapidly, seeming surprised. "Well, _that's_ a place to start."

Newt bit his lip.

"Go on." Alby said gently.

Newt took another deep breath. "I feel... I feel trapped in the Glade. And I've felt like that since I came here. It frustrates me... it frustrates me that I don't know why I'm here and why I don't have any bloody memories. Running the Maze makes me frustrated that I can't do anything, because we haven't gotten _anywhere_ in _eleven_ _months_."

"Why didn't you tell anyone? I woulda listened to if you told me." Alby said slowly.

"I didn't tell anyone because everyone seemed okay with what's happening- it... it seemed like I was the only one really bothered by it."

"Everyone's bothered by it, Newt."

"I think I'm more bothered by it. Everyone goes around pretending that it's all okay and I don't understand how they do it. I'm pretty sure you've seen that I'm pretty miserable and I'm pretty sure the rest of the Glade has too."

Alby stared at him. "I guess I did." he sighed. "But I thought that was... was just your personality, I guess. I mean, you've been like that since you arrived at the Glade."

"I don't think I've really got a miserable personality, the Glade and the Maze have just made me that way... because I despised it. Uh...I... I jumped off the wall because I couldn't take it anymore. I suppose my emotions just blew up in my face and I didn't know how to handle it and I felt like- like I was alone. But- but when I jumped, I realized I didn't want to do that. It would be so much easier to want to die if you weren't here." Newt let out a shaky laugh.

"What does that mean?" Alby asked, astonished. "I don't think I would've asked to be in the Glade."

Newt sat up and reached for Alby, hugging him tightly. "It means I would've been perfectly happy dying, had you not been here. You're my best friend here. And I feel like somebody appreciates that I'm here, so it makes it worthwhile, being here."

Alby hugged him back. "Well, I'm not quite sure how to reply to that, but... maybe that's a good thing...?"

"It definitely is."

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

When Newt was feeling well enough, Nick called a Gathering that didn't involve the entire Council, in attempt to have a little respect to Newt's privacy, as Newt had made Nick aware that he definitely did not want to tell half the Glade what he had done. So Newt was facing Nick, Alby, Minho, and Clint, who were the only Council members who knew about what Newt had done, and besides the other Runners, knew what had happened to him. Newt found himself on a set of crutches, going into the Council Hall, facing the four, awaiting his fate in the Glade.

"Newt, you attempted self-harm in the Maze. We're having this Gathering to see what should be done next, if you're going to participate in incredibly risky behavior." these words from Nick signaled the beginning of the Gathering.

"I already know that I don't want to be a Runner." Newt said. He still had the panicked thought that his leg was not going to heal properly, and besides, he wasn't going to be able to run for a long time, even if his leg did heal like it should.

"Why's that?" Nick seemed surprised at how quick Newt was to respond with that answer, even though Newt thought of Nick's intention to propose that Newt no longer be a Runner had been quite clear.

"Uh... reasons." Newt didn't want to go into too much detail about it. "I want to be something else. Track-hoe or Med-jack, maybe."

"You want to be a Track-hoe or Med-jack?" Nick raised an eyebrow.

"Med-jack would make me feel like I had some more worth than a sense of hopelessness I have as a Runner." Newt muttered.

"What's that?" Nick asked.

"Nothing." Newt said quickly.

"You'd have to train with Clint if you'd want to be a Med-jack. Are you up for that?" Nick asked.

Newt nodded.

"Clint, would you be willing to try training Newt?" Nick asked.

"Sure. I wouldn't make any agreements to you actually being a Med-jack until you proved to be skilled enough." Clint nodded to Newt.

Newt nodded. "I can live with that."

"All in favor?" Nick looked around.

All the Council members present raised their hands.

"That was surprisingly quick and easy." Nick seemed surprised. "I guess we're done here."

Minho came up to Newt. "Sucks that this had to happen, dude." Minho seemed sincerely disappointed. "You sure you don't want to be a Runner?"

"Yup." Newt nodded. "Sorry, Min. Besides, I don't think I'm gonna be able run very well, anyways." Newt looked down at his casted leg.

"I'm glad you were so willing to do that. It made the meeting a whole lot shorter and easier." Minho nudged his leg gently "I'm gonna miss running with you, though. I mean, the days we ran in partners were cool. I enjoyed them."

Newt smiled sadly at him. "This is for the best, I promise."

"As long as you know what you're doing." Minho slapped him on the shoulder. "It's been fun."

"Sure. Besides the threat of Grievers and whatnot." Newt rolled his eyes.

"You're a grumpy slinthead, you know that?" Minho shook his head and laughed.

"That's me." Newt forced a laugh. He wasn't ready to tell many people what was going on- it was a bit of a struggle to even tell Alby, and he was the reason he had any interest in being alive in the Glade. He definitely wasn't ready to tell Minho- however good a friend he was. Maybe one day. Maybe one day he'd be comfortable sharing his feelings with the whole Glade, who knew.

But today, today was _definitely_ not that day.

_If only you knew..._


End file.
